


Against the Stream

by dedougal



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-10
Updated: 2012-12-10
Packaged: 2017-11-20 19:59:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/589105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dedougal/pseuds/dedougal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam has a lot to deal with - his brother, his dad, his crush on Castiel. However, joining the swim team offers him a chance to prove himself and to make a name for himself. It only gets harder as he gets older though.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Against the Stream

**Author's Note:**

> This is for the [Sassy Minibang](http://sassy-minibang.livejournal.com/) over on lj. A massive thank you to doci and comedicdrama for all their help in whipping this into shape and to delugedpapercup for the art.

Sam hid the first time Dean brought Castiel home. He wasn't proud of it but it was all he could do when his brother brought the guy of his dreams home. Sam was proud of himself that he was able to say that he both literally and figuratively knew that Castiel was the guy of his dreams because not only did he daydream about him and Castiel actually meeting and talking and maybe kissing but he’d definitely had those dreams about him and Castiel where they definitely did more than kiss and he’d wake up and his cock would be wet and hard and it would only take a couple of strokes with his other hand muffling the urge to pant and scream before he’d come.

So that was why he hid. Sam wasn’t sure that he could actually hold a conversation with Castiel without those thoughts showing loud, clear and readable on his face. Maybe one day. And there was also the issue of Castiel being amazing. He was captain of the swim team and had a 4.0 and did debate club. He was everything Sam wanted to be. But today he was too afraid. And there was also the issue of why his brother – his annoying jerk of a brother – was bringing Castiel into their house. Sam had his bedroom door shut tight and he had homework to do but he spent most of the time that they were in the house with his ear against the door listening. He could make out the murmur of voices and then footsteps and the front door closing.

Dean knocked on his door a few minutes later and Sam reluctantly opened it.

“That was weird. Even for you.” His brother looked a little worried and Sam shrugged, not sure how to explain. “Castiel doesn’t bully you or anything?” Dean was ready to cause violence and that finally made Sam break.

“No. He’s-“ Sam rolled his eyes. “Just let me know when you’re bringing friends over so I can clear out. Don’t want to get in your way.” Pathetic excuse was pathetic.

“Castiel isn’t my friend. We’ve got Chem together.” Dean eyed him for a long time. Sam picked at his jeans. He wasn’t going to make eye contact. There was no way he could tell Dean what was really going on in his head. Finally Dean must have decided that he had better things to do. “Sure. C’mon, I need pizza rolls after all that studying.”

 

The next time Dean brought Castiel over, Sam was lying in the back yard enjoying the sun and napping. He always arrived home hours before Dean (and sometimes used the time to jerk off. It was nice to have the house to himself) because Dean had practice. Sam wasn’t sure if he wanted to try out. He’d be like junior, junior varsity if he did. There wasn’t a lot of space for Freshmen on most of the teams after all.

He was running through the sports teams in his head, wondering which he had a chance for and whether they’d look good on college applications. If he made college applications. If they didn’t move to another state again because of his dad. If he didn’t have to spend time after school doing catch up tests. That was when he realised Dean and Cas were there. Looking down at him.

“Hi,” Sam said, shading his eyes.

“Hey,” Castiel said, smiling. Dean dumped his shirt onto his chest.

“Cover up, Samantha. Wouldn’t want you getting burned.” Dean was grinning in that arrogant older brother way. Sam tried to hide his sigh before sitting up and drawing his shirt on. “We’re going to study in the kitchen. Just wanted to warn you like you asked.”

Sam sneered at Dean and nodded at Cas before heading into the house. He could hide in his room again. “Do you want to join us, Sam?”

The words stopped him in his tracks. He turned to see Dean shooting Castiel an ugly look which Castiel didn’t notice because he was focused on Sam. And Sam reddened under the force of his gaze. He had no idea Castiel even knew his name.

Sam wondered if he could get away with joining them but realised Dean would probably kill him. Or maim him. "S'okay. I got-" Sam threw his thumb over his shoulder and dashed for the house. Now Castiel would think he was an enormous freak and never speak to him again.

Sam was still eaten up by humiliating and crippling embarrassment when there was a soft knock at his door. He had a book in front of his face but wasn't so much seeing the pages as seeing Castiel's face and his own reaction playing out again and again.

"I like that book," Castiel said from the doorway. "I came to see if you were okay."

"I'm..." Sam had to swallow a couple of times. "Fine." That came out a few octaves higher than he meant it to. He coughed.

"Yeah. Anyway. Dean's on the phone so I thought I'd give him some privacy." Castiel moved into the room. Sam had to remember to breathe again. Castiel was in his room. "Dean was saying you haven't gone out for basketball."

"No-o." Sam's voice cracked less this time. He curled his legs up into a ball, suddenly ashamed of his growth spurt. He was almost taller than Dean now. Castiel took the movement as an invitation and sat on the end of the bed.

"Are you trying out for any teams? They look good on college applications, you know." Castiel made himself comfortable before speaking again. "You think about the swim team?"

"Yes." Sam had to speak in more complex sentences. Come on. He knew how to. "I'd like to." Sure he could try out for the swim team. He could humiliate himself in trials and Castiel would never speak to him again. Or, worse, he could get in and then he'd get kicked off the team for getting constant boners whenever he saw Castiel in a swimsuit. Because that would be a thing. A good thing. Sam could feel his dick hardening in his shorts and he drew his knees closer to his chest. "I don't know if I'm good enough."

"Sure you would be. We're always in need of new members. And I know it doesn't get the same support as football or basketball but the cheerleaders do show up now and again. There's more chance for a freshman to come to meets as well." Castiel's blue, blue eyes were fixed on him, wide and guileless. Sam felt dirty under their clear gaze. But he was nodding before he could stop himself. "Great."

"Yeah." This time his voice was hoarse. Shit. What if Castiel realised something? This time Sam was ready to praise Dean as his voice drifted up the stairs, asking if Castiel was up there.

"Monday. After school. See you there, Sam." And with that, Castiel was gone, closing the door behind him. Sam stayed curled up on his bed for a good few minutes just in case he came back.

 

Sam hadn't told Dean what he was doing. Dean had some kind of make up test and was going to be late home and Sam decided he just wasn't going to say anything. He rolled his eyes at his brother instead. The worst of it was that Dean wasn't dumb. He shouldn't be failing. He just seemed to have never worked out that homework needed to be handed in and he needed to listen in class and not read car magazines. Sam blamed himself for that, a bit. When he'd been younger, Dad had been gone and Dean had been the one looking after him and making sure he got to school and he really hadn't been as self-sufficient back then. So school had been something Dean played it when his real job was looking after Sam.

Maybe he'd be nicer to Dean.

Sam had changed with the rest of the hopefuls in the locker room, keeping his eyes firmly on the floor in front of him and not sneaking peeks at his competition. He left his t-shirt on and slung his towel over his knees after his shower, feeling cold and uncomfortable as he watched the pool ripple and wave. Everyone else, boys and girls alike, was comfortable enough to chat but Sam could only focus on the churning in his gut. There was no way he wasn't going to humiliate himself. They'd need to move across the country again.

Castiel clapped his hands, the sound echoing around the pool. Sam had no excuse not to look at him. He was wearing a blue polo shirt over his trunks but Castiel was still more naked than Sam had ever really expected to see him. His legs were lean and muscled and Sam had a moment of enjoying just looking before he remembered what he was supposed to be doing here. He tuned in to Castiel's instructions.

"We're going to ask you to swim a length of whatever stroke you feel most comfortable doing. We'll time it and then post a list. Training is every Thursday morning before school and Monday after with the occasional weekend." Castiel turned to the people on either side of him with clipboards and stop watches. Two of them walked to the far end of the pool. "Jump in and get warmed up. Then we'll start." Castiel let slip a shy smile at the end, a little at odds with his whole captain persona. Then Sam was left behind on the bench as the others dumped their shirts and towels and slid into the water. He could feel Castiel watching him as he pulled his shirt off and stood there, chilling, in only his shorts. The water was a welcome haven.

Sam splashed around, feeling his body get used to the chill of the water and his muscles loosen. The churning in his stomach seemed to fade. He liked swimming. He'd always liked it. Lengths gave him space to think and it was never freezing like running could be in the early morning.

Castiel's whistle called them all to attention and they half-swam, half-splashed through the water to the near end. Sam clumped together with the others when they got out, even though he was taller than the other freshmen. Castiel smiled in their direction - Sam convinced himself Castiel wasn't looking at him - and beckoned the first person forward.

All too soon, it was Sam's turn. He waited at the edge of the pool, toes curled over the rim of the pool. Castiel came close.

"Sam Winchester, Freshman. Don't need to ask your name." Castiel smiled up at him. Sam couldn't pretend that one was aimed at anyone else. "Just swim as hard as you can."

"I will. Promise." Sam lost a few moments looking at Castiel. They were the same height near enough. Castiel's eyes widened for a moment before he nodded at Sam.

"Ready. Go." Sam sliced into the water and fell into the familiar rhythm of freestyle. He'd considered going for butterfly in the hope no one else liked it but a couple of guys had messed it up. He just concentrated on breathing, on his kicks, on pushing himself through the water as quickly as he could. The end of the pool came up faster than he'd expected and he bashed his wrist as he slapped the tiles.

"Cool." The girl at the other end wrote down the time. "Really cool. Who are you?"

Sam pulled himself out of the pool, feeling more confident now. "Sam Winchester."

"Oh. You're Sam Winchester?" The way she said it, all drawn out "you're" suggested that someone had been saying something. Hopefully nothing bad. The way the girl was looking him up and down with this unreadable smile on her face - very Mona Lisa - made Sam feel a little dirty for all he'd just got out of the pool.

"Yeah. Can I-" Sam pointed to where his towel was waiting. The pool was emptying out now and he should probably start making his way home. He could always try and catch a ride with Dean and admit what he'd been doing.

"Sure." Sam could feel her eyes on him until Castiel's whistle blew again and she focused on her stopwatch again.

 

Not having thought it through fully, Sam should have realised Dean would see the swim team list. He hadn't really expected Dean to see it before him and to drag him into an empty classroom just after the lunch bell.

"Swim team? Why didn't you say anything?" Dean actually looked impressed.

"I made it?" Sam didn't really want to admit his reasoning behind trying out which was basically Castiel, Castiel and, oh yeah, Castiel. Then he looked more closely at Dean. "Sorry."

"Hey, no. You're like a freshman and you're on the team and that is awesome. My baby brother, in it to win it." Dean looked proud as he messed up Sam's hair. "I thought you were going to join the Chess team or something."

"I was thinking debate." The words were out before Sam could censor them and he just knew he was blushing. He could feel his cheeks heating up. But luckily Dean just looked at him oddly for a moment.

"I don't care. As long as you keep up your jock cred. Which you are." Dean grabbed his books and headed out to the hall. "You'll have a girlfriend in no time, Sammy."

"It's Sam." Dean was gone before Sam could explain any more about how he didn't want a girlfriend, or, at least, he was pretty sure he didn't. He only really wanted Castiel. Which, since Castiel was a guy, pretty much made him, well, gay. That was probably not the best conversation to have in an empty classroom just before lunch. There was probably no place where that would be the best conversation.

 

Sam was astonished by the number of people who suddenly knew who he was as he wandered down the hallway in the general direction of the notice board. He wanted to see it for himself, after all. He wondered who else had made the team, sure, but he also wanted to confirm that his name was really there in black and white. He was nodding at the last of the people who called, "Hey, Sam. Congrats" when he ran into Castiel.

"So, yeah." Castiel looked a little flustered when Sam untangled himself and stood, shamefully, eyes fixed on the floor. "I wanted to catch you and tell you but I guess news travels fast around here."

"Thanks." Sam was amazed his voice didn't stutter or break. "It's-" Then his brain shut off as he realised just how close Castiel was and how good he smelled - just clean and a hint of chlorine - and how very very blue his eyes were.

Castiel stared at him for a moment as well, probably realising how much of a freak he was. "You'll be a great addition to the team." Then he rushed off.

Sam still double checked his name was on the list (near the top too, rather than last as usual) and he buried the whole idea of seeing Castiel in his swim trunks and nothing else deep in his brain, suppressing it as hard as he could.

 

Practice was good. It was tiring and he nearly fell asleep in Math afterwards, but mainly it was good. He fell into the rhythm of the endurance lengths, following the instructions chalked on a board at one end of the pool. Then he was sent to join the freestyle lane, working on kicks with a float. He didn’t know what he’d expected. But this works. It’s as much about strength and endurance as it is about technique. He was dangling his feet in the water, waiting for the feeling to return to the rest of his body when he saw Castiel dive in from the other end of the pool.

Part of him realised there was nothing wrong in looking. He was picking up tips, technique. He was learning through observation. He wasn’t watching Castiel in particular. He just happened to be the one swimming, his long, lean body slicing through the water with the minimum of effort. Sam was so caught up in watching his arms drawn back that Castiel was hitting the wall beside him in no time. Castiel bobbed up under his feet, grabbing blindly at one of Sam’s ankles while he pulled off his goggles.

“He-y. Sorry.” Castiel was pink cheeked and breathing hard and Sam had a flash of Castiel looking like that after a particularly heavy make out session and he was lost. He waved at Castiel and scrambled up, grabbing his towel and booking it to the showers.

So maybe practice was going to be a little less than good. More like specialised Sam Winchester torture.

 

Being on a team – even the swim team – when he was a freshman was obviously something of a nine day wonder. He was asked out by a cheerleader (junior varsity. It counted), which resulted in him shaking his head and turning the approximate colour of a fire hydrant, being invited to sit at another lunch table and being offered some weed. Sam was happy enough to pretty much turn all that down and life settled back to boring normality interspersed with moments of intense and vivid adrenaline rushes. Known as homework, school and swim practice. Castiel wasn’t coming past the house anymore, so Sam could relax there at least. He and Dean had obviously finished whatever project they’d been forced to work on together.

Sam realised his complacency was his first mistake. The second – and bigger – was having Dean Winchester for a big brother. Sadly he could have dealt with his first mistake.

“So, Sam.” Dean was sitting on his bed when he stumbled in from practice. “I think it’s time we talked.”

Dean was holding a copy of a skin mag Sam had found stuffed down the back of a diner seat from a time they’d had to go with their dad on one of his trips. And it wasn’t the kind of skin mag Dean would normally read. Sam was sure he’d hidden it totally as well.

He sat in the old dining room chair that acted as his desk chair while Dean looked at the floor. There weren’t really words.

Dean finally looked up at him, squinting as if he was saying something unpleasant. “Is this what the swim team thing is about?”

“What?” That came out of nowhere.

“Guys.” Dean seemed to think that explained everything.

Sam shrugged. He didn’t know what to say.

“Were you… Did I… Fuck it. Sam. Sammy. Sam.” Dean was pacing now, up on his feet, around the narrow space between the bed and the window and then dropping to his knees in front of Sam. “Hey. I just- I’ll always be your brother. No matter.”

Sam finally met his eyes. He felt kinda sick but Dean was looking at him so earnestly that some of the urge to puke faded. “You won’t tell Dad?”

“Not until you’re ready.” That seemed to settle Dean as much as it did Sam. “So, guys. Any guys I should know about? Anyone I need to threaten?”

“I’m not a girl, Dean.” Sam could feel the familiar irritation rising up. Dean looked upset, caught. He was trying so hard to be understanding and accepting and Sam decided that lying would help. “But no.”

“I wondered about the Max kid.” Dean stood up, hovered and then grabbed at Sam to pull him to his feet as well and into a hug. And maybe Sam clung a little more than he meant to but it felt safe. “You can talk to me,” Dean muttered. “Really.”

“I know, man.” Sam was just as unwilling to speak loudly. Dean was going to fall over himself to be sympathetic and caring for the next few weeks before he reverted back to being big brother Dean, annoyance. The problem was he didn’t think Dean would understand about the whole Castiel thing. Three years was a big age gap. And it wasn’t like Castiel would really notice him as anything other than that freak freshman on his swim team. Sam patted Dean on his back. Coming out, step one, completed. Or so he guessed.

 

In another part of things Sam had never really thought about, sometimes the swim team had meets at other schools. Most of the time, they competed against teams locally but there were a couple of meets further away and they needed parental permission slips.

Sam was at the kitchen table when Dean came in, the paperwork in front of him. “There’s a meet and it needs an overnight and…”

Dean slid into the chair beside Sam and pulled over the letter and started reading it. “You want to go?”

“Yes. I don’t want to let the team down.” Sam tried to look all martyred and self-sacrificing before he slumped to the table. “I just want to be normal and go and not have to worry about this.”

“You know Dad…”

“I know Dad would be here if he could but how do we… I mean, there’s no one here. What if something happens to him? Or to you? What would happen?” Sam normally shoved those thoughts down deep, ignored them, but every so often the whole weirdness of their lives just made want to crawl into the corner and rock. It wasn’t his fault that his dad headed off to any job he could find and left his big brother to look after him when he couldn’t be bothered taking them along. He thought he dealt with the whole “not fair” aspect of life pretty well. He didn’t moan about not having the latest trendy jeans or whatever it was kids who weren’t him and Dean wanted. Just, sometimes- “I want it to be normal.”

Dean sat for a moment, looking older than he really should, weary. He reached out an arm and hauled Sam in, giving him half a hug. “I’ll speak to the office.”

“CPS-“ The constant threat of being taken away, put in a home, split up from Dean was still there, burning and everpresent.

“I’ll speak to the office.” Dean stood up, rubbing his face with his hand. They’d learned their lesson about faking John’s signature one too many times. Now Dean was eighteen, it was better. “You better win.”

“Yeah?” Sam could feel the excitement building again, replacing his worry.

“Yeah. Since I’m going to be there to see how your bony ass does. I don’t cheer for losers.” Dean ruffled his hand over Sam’s hair. “Got to be hot girls in tiny swimsuits for me, right?”

Sam made a face in response, but it was automatic rather than intended. He should have known he could always count on Dean.

 

And again, Sam had underestimated his brother. Castiel caught him after practice and pulled him aside, waving at the others leaving the pool area until it was only him and Sam shivering. Sam was getting better at the whole controlling himself around Castiel and he was so focused on the swimming that he hadn’t really taken time to do more than just casually enjoy Castiel in swim trunks and nothing else.

But they were alone. And Castiel was so comfortable in his shorts, standing around and chatting to the others and picking up the odd float that had been left by the side and stacking it neatly. Sam knew he should be helping but instead he had collapsed onto a bench and was watching Castiel, his pale skin highlighted by the sprinkle of dark hair under his navel. Castiel had explained that most swimmers shaved or waxed but he couldn’t be bothered doing that until competitions and Sam was now focused on that, on the flex of Castiel’s stomach muscles as he picked up the detritus of training. Then Castiel was coming towards him and Sam had to drag his imagination away and bring his eyes back up to appropriate level and he wished that Castiel could have grabbed him after he’d changed.

Castiel sat down on the bench beside him, stretching his legs out and tipping his head back to rest against the tiled wall. “Man, training sucks sometimes.”

Sam made a non-committal noise as Castiel swung his head around to look at Sam. “You’re doing great, Sam. Really putting on the speed. It’s really great to see.”

Sam nodded. He could feel his cheeks burning. He was used to people telling him he was doing well – his teachers certainly felt he was making good progress – but it was different to hear it from someone he respected like Castiel. “Thanks.”

“So- this meet is your first overnight, right?” Castiel’s eyes were really blue. It was a little hard for Sam to breathe under their onslaught but he nodded again, feeling a little stupid but not being able to speak. It was some pretty intense eye-contact they had going on right now. His heart beat a little faster. Castiel didn’t look away. “You need to room with someone but I heard that Dean was going to come as well.”

“What?” Sam looked confused. He thought Dean was just going to drive to the meet so late at night it was early in the morning.

“Dean spoke to me. He wondered if he should bring you since he was coming anyway or if it was better for you to be on the bus.” Castiel didn’t seem to think this was weird. “So I said he should just come on the bus too. We have room.”

Sam wanted to hide his face in his hands but that would mean looking away from Castiel and he wasn’t sure he could do that. “I don’t…”

“We have a triple room that’s unassigned. Since Merryn dropped out. Anyway-“ Castiel grinned. It was so different from his usual repertoire of soft smiles and impassive stares. It suited him, even if it made him look a little manic. “I was thinking that if Dean was coming you could share with him and me and that would mean that the girls could have the double. It’s kinda helping me out. But I wondered if you would be weird about sharing with me.”

“Why would I be weird sharing with you?” Sam blurted out. It wouldn’t be weird. It might make him explode or self-combust. But Dean would be a perfect buffer.

“Oh-“ Castiel’s face fell into his usual blankness. “I thought you knew. I’m gay.”

Sam couldn’t breathe. He was under the water and lying on the bottom and drowning. He couldn’t make his throat open and his heart start and his lungs draw in any air whatsoever.

“Sorry. I’ll- I’ll rearrange again.” Castiel was still maintaining his straight face but his voice sounded sad and a little bit broken.

“No no no no no. It’s fine. It’s-“ Sam suddenly knew he couldn’t get out of this without explaining why he’d reacted in the way he had and knew it wasn’t going to go down well but he was smart enough to realise he’d have to tell someone sometime. “Me too.”

“Me too what?” Castiel was still watching him carefully and closely. Sam knew he was reddening under Castiel’s stare again.

“I’m gay. I’ve told Dean but he’s the only one who knows and that’s cool and it’s good he’ll be sharing with us and me too.” Sam didn’t know exactly what he’d said but the way Castiel relaxed and leaned back against the tiles, eyes still fixed on Sam, suggested it had been the right thing. Sam bit his lip before he could admit to liking Castiel. That was probably a step too far.

“I won’t say anything to anyone else.” Castiel wore one of the soft smiles that Sam was so fond of. He could feel himself smiling back. “Just glad that’s out there.”

 

Dean had ended up sitting with Castiel and a couple of the senior girls at the back of the bus, leaving Sam to chat with the sophomore girls down at the front. He didn’t mind. Dean hadn’t explained what the deal was with the whole him-coming-along thing but he was happy. He’d never had the support that most of his teammates seemed to take for granted. One of the girls always acted embarrassed when her entire family showed up – aunts, uncles, cousins, grandparents as well as parents and brothers – to cheer her on but deep down Sam was sure she liked it.

The bus trip was a five hour marathon and about two hours in, after a short break for dinner and the bathroom, everyone seemed to lose the will to bounce and be hyper and settled into quieter chat. Sam stretched out on his double and pulled out his book. He did have homework to complete after all.

Dean poked him awake when they arrived at their accommodation – some kind of budget hotel that was decent enough. Sam yawned his way through getting off the bus, retrieving his bag, listening to Mr Whyte’s threats of dismemberment if anyone broke curfew and through getting up to their room. In fact, he just let Dean kinda deal with it all, face-planting onto the nearest bed the minute he was able.

“Awww, little baby Sammy needs his beddy-byes!” Dean taunted. He kicked Sam’s leg out of the way and dumped the bags on the pull out single – the couch transformed into a bed for the night. Castiel followed them in, last. Being Captain seemed to come with extra paperwork as well as the glory.

Castiel looked at Dean with a weird uncomfortable shiver. “It’s Sam.” Sam hid his own grin in his pillow before pushing up.

“I am going to bed. Not because you’re winding me up, but because I want to win tomorrow and I am indeed idealistic enough to believe a good night’s sleep will help.” Sam finished his oh, so adult speech by sticking out his tongue and spoiling the mood. Both Dean and Castiel smothered giggles as he closed the bathroom door behind him. Sam studied himself in the mirror, wondering if Castiel was looking at him any differently since they’d talked beside the pool. Then he shook his head at his idiocy. Castiel was a senior and there was no way he’d be into Sam.

Sam changed into his pyjamas, wondering as he brushed his teeth whether his thin t-shirt and soft pant combo was good enough. This whole trip away thing opened up a whole new world of minefields. He’d always been unable to do this before. In some ways, he was glad that Dean had hitched a ride, even though he’d never say it. He could hear Dean and Castiel talking outside the room but not make out the words as he finished up.

When he left the bathroom, Dean wasn’t in the room anymore. Castiel was patting the curtains into place. “Dean said he didn’t have a curfew as he wasn’t part of the team. I think he has gone to see if Erica feels similarly.”

“Oh.” And then the room seemed smaller as Castiel danced past him into the bathroom. They had to do an awkward shuffle to make room and Castiel pressed against him at one point. Sam’s body reacted instantly, his cock stiffening enough to make him glad Castiel had shut the door behind him so quickly.

Sam pulled out his book and switched off the overhead light. He stumbled across the room to fumble for the bedside lamp but found it eventually. His bed was smaller than the one at home but he was glad to be under the covers and hiding by the time Castiel came out of the bathroom. Castiel asked if he minded the TV and Sam shook his head, eyes fixed on his book. Castiel slid into his own bed, clicked on the TV and settled down himself.

Sam tried reading but the words were just dancing on the page, not making sense. All his concentration was on Castiel who was breathing slowly and steadily in the bed beside him. There wasn’t that much of a gap between them and all Sam needed to do was reach across and he’d be able to take Castiel’s hand, feel the shift of his leg under the thin sheets. It wouldn’t take much for him to slip out of his own bed and mould his own body alongside Castiel’s. Sam’s imagination ran wild and his wicked side started to suggest that he should do it.

The door opening suddenly and Dean tumbling in, cursing Mr Whyte at the top of his lungs, broke any resolution that Sam might have made.

“Asshole caught me lurking and sent me back here. He’s sitting in the freaking hallway with a laptop. You believe that shit!” Dean looked absolutely apoplectic and Sam couldn’t help laughing at him. Dean flipped Sam the bird and stalked to his own bed. “So what’s on TV?”

Sam switched his light off around half an hour into _Independence Day_ and rolled over. He closed his eyes and let the sound of explosions and Dean and Cas criticising the plot holes lull him to sleep.

 

Sam wasn't sure what had woken him - he would have put a bet on Dean's snoring if living with him hadn't inured him to the racket - but when he rolled over, he could read the 3.32am on the TV clearly. He lay in the narrow bed and punched his pillow a few times, aiming for something closer to comfort. Unfortunately the pillow seemed completely bent out of shape and made of cardboard. Even wriggling extensively didn't seem to be helping him get back to sleep.

He was about to give up and try going to the bathroom when he was caught by a movement from Castiel's bed. Sam froze, shuttering his eyes and hoping Castiel wouldn't notice him. Instead he watched as the sheet dipped off Castiel's body as he shifted in his sleep, pooling around his waist. The same movements must have made his shirt ride up and his pajama pants ride down. While Sam had glimpsed Castiel's body more than he could recall in the pool, there was something intimate, something more intense about seeing him sprawl out, half naked, the tops of his narrow hips peeking out from the tangle of cloth. Then Castiel rolled over, face down into his pillow and the curve of his ass rising from his clothes.

Sam had to roll over and face the wall and think of his dad naked and old ladies and just anything to stop himself from getting hard. He couldn't do that, not here. For all that his crush on Castiel showed no sign of ending anytime soon, he really didn't have any chance of actually doing anything with him, much as he'd love to. Odd swirling guilt made his stomach cramp as Sam thought about what a perv he was being, watching Castiel like that. Complete creeper. Castiel had trusted him to share a room and here was Sam being completely awkward and weird.

When the alarm blared at six o’clock, Sam realised he must have fallen asleep again. He didn’t feel rested and his eyes burned as he stumbled down to breakfast with the others. He ended up sitting with the other (two) freshmen – both girls – and a few of the sophomore boys, leaving Castiel and Dean to join the other seniors at a bigger table.

Castiel caught him, however, as he was sitting in the bleachers by the competition pool, waiting to warm up.

“Sam? Are you okay?” Castiel was serious, sombre and so genuinely worried that Sam allowed himself a quick look up into his face, allowed himself to admire.

“Just.. nervous. About the meet. My first big one, you know.”

“You’ll do great.” Castiel actually sat down beside him. “I thought you might be freaking out or something.”

“Little bit.” Sam shot a smile sideways from under the curtain of his hair. He had his cap ready to slide on but he preferred to do that after he’d swum a bit first. Rituals and superstitions and trying not to do anything that would upset the result. Normally Sam would also have rubbed one out in the shower in the morning but he’d just turned the water to cool.

Castiel leaned back, the picture of sophisticated comfort and ease. “You’re going to win. I know it.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence.” Sam started to feel a little more like himself, regain that all important equilibrium.

Castiel was still watching him closely, unreadable expression on his face. Then he frowned, returning to the all business team captain Sam knew. He didn’t quite know how to take the swift change in atmosphere. “Always believe in you, Sam.” The platitude was delivered brusquely and Castiel headed off to his own warm up. But not before he gripped Sam’s shoulder. Sam felt as though Castiel’s hand had left a handprint on him.

 

He won. Of course. In fact, he decimated the competition. The thing was that Sam couldn’t remember swimming any of his races. All he could see was that odd unreadable expression on Castiel’s face and he had no idea what to say or do or even think. All he did was throw his arms in front of the other, through the quarters and the semis and the finals, setting a new school record in that.

He should have been triumphant on the bus. Should have been chaotically and crazily happy. Instead all Sam could do was beg exhaustion and curl himself up on the back seat next to Dean and pretend to sleep.

 

Sam was feeling a bit less disconnected from everything when he climbed off the bus at the end of the drive. There was a giant trophy that Dean insisted he pose with while he snapped off some shots with his cell and hugs from the girls on the team and a few slaps on the back. Sam felt almost good as he and Dean slid into Dean’s car for the short trip home.

Naturally that was when it all upturned again.

His dad’s car was parked in the driveway and, as Dean pulled up to the kerb, his dad came to the front door. Beyond him, Sam could see packing boxes.

“How did it go?” His dad didn’t sound angry but Sam knew what this was. It was time to go, time to move on. Dad had found work elsewhere and he was being uprooted and dragged to yet another town that was a blip on a map somewhere halfway across the country.

“I won.” But inside, Sam felt like he had lost. He wasn’t even going to get to say goodbye to anyone. “I’m going to pack.”

His dad just moved out of the way and let him pass.

 

 

His dad didn’t usually move them back to the same places but Sam was pleasantly surprised to transfer back to Springfield for his senior year. Dad found an apartment, a two bedroom place because he would be on the road most of the time, and left him and Dean there to get set up.

Sam was surprised that people remembered him – the odd teacher, the occasional classmate. He was surprised how much the place had changed in two and a half years. He wasn’t surprised that the entire place was filled with memories of him and Castiel and Dean. Sam stopped in front of the trophy cabinet his first day back and was happily surprised to see a photograph that included him, taken after that first meet away from school behind an enormous divisional championship trophy.

Natasha caught up with him after school. “Hey, Sam Winchester, I remember you.”

Sam wondered what kind of memories she had. On the other hand, he did need to make new friends. Again. Old friends to new friends. “Hi. Natasha, right?”

She hugged him. It was brief and it was nothing more than friendly and something settled within Sam. “So, do you still swim?”

“Now and again.” Sam liked to swim. He hadn’t been on any other teams but it was always something he could do, on his own, no matter where they were. Maybe he hadn’t trained like the team would. “Nothing strenuous.”

“You look fit. Tryouts are in a week. Get in the pool!” Natasha punched him in the arm. She seemed buoyant and full of life and it was infectious. Sam laughed at her. He stood at least a foot taller than she did - maybe even more. And here she was hitting him. Natasha wove her arm through his. "Now tell me your delicious brother is still around and we can be the best of friends."

"Dean's working at the garage over on Leahy Street. I was about to head that way now, grab a soda on the way." Sam gestured towards the sidewalk in front of the school. It wasn't a long walk, only a couple of blocks or so.

Natasha was quiet as they started walking and Sam let her work out the question she wanted to ask. "So, Castiel comes back to visit us now and again. You remember him, right? You liked him?" Her voice trembled over the last, betraying her hesitation.

Sam was a little bit relieved to not have to make a big deal about being out. That hadn't gone down too well at his last school. "Yeah. Well, he was too old for me. But that's nice to hear."

Natasha relaxed, falling into step beside him and filling him in on all sorts of the type of useless gossip that he normally felt left out of. It was a nice feeling.

 

Natasha thanked him for providing her with an excuse to stare at Dean and even flirt a little with him with an invitation to a party that Friday night. Even Dean was impressed at his quick work. He even offered to use his ID to provide, "a limited amount of beer. There will be drinking and you'd be better off sticking to your own." Sam took him up on the offer, glad he had as he walked into the house heaving with teenagers.

It was as if he was the new pony Natasha had just acquired, as she dragged him around, introducing him to everyone again and making sure Sam had a drink at all times. He was maintaining a low level buzz as he finally slipped out into the backyard. For all that the sun had set hours ago, it was pleasantly warm out here, and Sam sank into an empty lawn chair, waving to the insensible couple who were trying to see how long they could go without air next to him.

Sam was aware that he might have dipped into a light doze when the air shifted beside him. Sam rolled his head to the side - he was definitely more buzzed than he'd thought - and saw Castiel settling into the chair beside his. Sam looked for a minute that was longer than really acceptable before blinking rapidly. He also pinched his thigh just in case this was a dream or a hallucination or something. Something unreal. Sam had imagined this happening in a daydream or two. Or three. Or a hundred. He hadn't imagined Castiel looking this good. Castiel hadn't bulked up like Dean had. He was still lean and fit. His hair was no longer tamed down, instead it stuck up in tousled spikes. His cheekbones seemed sharper as there was something more angular about his face. Dark stubble shaded his cheeks now but his blue eyes were just the same.

"Hi, Sam. Natasha said you were back in town."

Sam's mouth hung open. Castiel's voice had also changed. Sure he'd always had a low voice - Sam had thought it was one of the things he liked most about him - but this was rough and gravelly and it sent chills up Sam's spine. With his inhibitions freed by the alcohol, Sam thought it was perfectly acceptable to say, "Hey, Castiel. You sound good."

Castiel let out an embarrassed cough. He didn't look away from Sam though and a soft smile played on his lips.

"You look good too. I mean. It's nice to see you. For you to be here. It's nice." Sam realised he had no control over his mouth. It was as if the filter between brain and lips had just been wiped out. He could also feel himself blushing but was satisfied that it was dark out here and that Castiel couldn't see that at least.

"I head back to college next week. Thought I'd say hello." Castiel sounded amused. Well. At least he didn't sound put off or disgusted.

"Yeah, how's that?" Sam pinned his lips together before he could ask if Castiel was seeing someone because that was currently the thought occupying his mind. And also possibly the pathetic planning to immediate do away with any significant other Castiel had. Sam hadn't seen the guy for two and a half years and it was as if his little crush had never gone away.

Castiel talked about professors and majors and dorms and Sam drank it all in. Not only was it _Castiel_ but it was everything he wanted to be doing next year. He could see himself joining Castiel in the library studying and making out in the stacks, on the swim team, having quiet and time and a place where it was perfectly acceptable to hold Castiel's hand and kiss him in public. Sam was so caught up in his little fantasy that he didn't notice the shadow that had fallen over them both.

"Hey, Castiel." Dean was standing behind Sam, leaning over to shake Castiel's hand. Sam wished he'd thought of that. Then he could have touched Castiel and that would have been nice and then Dean was hauling him up.

"Dean." Castiel sounded serious. Then he grinned, easy, and ran a hand through his mess of a hair. "Sam certainly got tall."

"Yeah." Sam crowed internally. Dean still hadn't really gotten over that. "I just came to make sure this princess got home safe. He's not used to partying it up."

Castiel joined them, working his shoulder under Sam's other arm. "I can walk, you know," Sam grumbled, as they started towing him towards the front of the house. He wasn't going to object, though. He felt shaky and unstable and had the sudden urge to sleep. An enormous yawn fought its way out of him as Castiel and Dean finally got him to Dean's car. Sam tumbled into the passenger seat, watching through the windscreen as Dean and Castiel exchanged phone numbers.

Dean was humming along to the radio as they drove through the pretty empty streets. He seemed happy - happier - for some reason.

"Castiel is nice," Sam said.

"I know you think so. He seems less of a dick. We're going to grab a burger next week." Dean shifted through the gears smoothly, ducking just below the speed limit as they passed a cop car.

"I don't want you to date Castiel." Again, the words were out before Sam could censor them.

Dean looked over, sharply, before fixing them back on the road. "You are such a lightweight. He's twenty-one. He's too old for you."

"You date eighteen year olds all the time," Sam replied mullishly.

Dean pulled into the lot outside their apartment block. "Yeah. Eighteen. Legal and eager." Dean grinned in a wicked way that made Sam let out a disgusted sound. "Heh. Let's get you to bed, Sammy. I'm looking forward to seeing you in the morning."

 

Sam wasn’t quite so happy in the morning but it was Saturday and he didn’t have too much to do in the way of homework yet so he could kick back and stare blankly at morning cartoons. Dean joined him on the sofa – he might not be hungover but he was still exhausted from working all week. Sam even passed over the juice.

Dean was kneading the cushion which meant he had something to ask Sam but he wasn’t sure how to begin. Sam slumped down, kicking his feet onto the coffee table and waited.

“So…” Dean almost breathed it out. “I’m just going to ask. Castiel, all those years ago?”

“Yeah?” Sam had no idea where Dean was going with this.

“Nothing happened, right? He didn’t turn you gay?” Dean had his eyes fixed on the TV but Sam could see the lines of tension around his eyes. He picked up one of the throw cushions and hit Dean across the head with it.

“First, gay doesn’t work like that, you dick, and I thought you were okay with it. Secondly, Castiel would never. He was just…nice.” Sam could feel himself blushing for all his anger. It should be Dean who was getting embarrassed and all uncomfortable right now. “A hell of a lot nicer than you.”

“I’m your brother and I have to look out for you.” Dean was muttering and refusing to make eye contact but Sam could make him out fine. It made him hit Dean again with the cushion before he gave up in disgust and just threw it into his lap. Hard. Dean winced satisfyingly.

“Yeah, but it’s my life.” Sam knew it wasn’t the best line to defeat the whiny teenager stereotype but sue him, he was hungover.

 

It really wasn’t an issue. Dean and Castiel went out for burgers while Sam was stuck in the library trying to get up to speed on _Measure for Measure_. Weeks seemed to pass in flashes rather in long boring days (although Sam’s World Civ teacher definitely tried to draw it out longer than it really needed), something helped by Sam’s sudden acquisition of a life-guarding job courtesy of Natasha’s recommendation. Before he knew it, Castiel had headed off to college and Sam was trying out for the swim team again.

This time it was Natasha with the clipboard saying, “Sam Winchester, no need for introductions.” Other than that, déjà vu was definitely the flavour of the month. Sam remembered his strategy of last time - just swim as hard as he could - and, although he had years of experience and some training under his belt, he ended up following his advice from all those years ago. When he pulled up at the end of the lane, chlorine making his eyes sting, the boy with the stopwatch grinned at him and his heaving chest.

"Guess you really want to get back on the team?" He swung the stopwatch around to show a pretty decent time. Sam grinned and levered himself out of the pool. There was an audible gasp from the bleachers where a small group of girls sat.

"That's new," Sam said, not really surreptitiously nodding his head in their direction.

"The swim team apparently now comes with groupies. Enjoy!" The boy was already turning away to reset his stopwatch as Sam headed for his towel. He felt uncomfortable under their scrutiny, like he was leading them on or something.

 

Dean hooted as Sam relayed his story and his unease. He started speculating on all the things Sam would be missing out on, in more detail than Sam was really comfortable hearing. But that was just his big brother. Sam endured as Dean pulled into the local diner that had become his restaurant of choice in the town.

Sam ordered a salad. If he was training again, he'd probably need to start eating a little healthier. Dean plumped for the biggest burger on the menu, heart attack on a plate. They were quiet as they dug in.

"I'm going to come out. At school." Sam spoke into the bottom of his dish, scraping the fork after the last sliver of lettuce. Dean stopped eating and put his burger down. Sam could tell from the silence that Dean wasn't sure how to answer or advise him.

Finally Dean spoke, "You want to take the car? I'm close enough to walk to work. It’s closer than the school."

That shocked Sam into looking at him. Dean shrugged and picked up his burger. Sam watched his brother trying to puzzle through whatever logic leap Dean had taken. "You don't want me getting beaten up?"

"Because then I'd have to lose good working hours coming by your school and to the hospital and shit. Just- Be careful, Sam. I think you'll be okay. Cas was out at school and he managed. Sorta." Dean pursed his lips around his straw and drained the last of his soda, making a horrid sound as he sucked out the last of the liquid. That was his brother. A mix of gross and supportive.

"Yeah. I was thinking subtle. Like a rainbow flag pin. Or a lisp. I could carry that off." Sam enjoyed the shudder that went through Dean's body at that latter suggestion.

Dean bit down on his burger fiercely, glaring at Sam as if to dare him to put his off his food some more.

"Or I could just start walking funny. Like bowlegged."

He totally deserved Dean throwing his napkin at him.

 

School was a bit of a non-event. Sam showed up at a GSA meeting on his own and then the news was all over school without him having to lift a finger. Dean grunted when Sam told him, but it was the relieved sound rather than the oh-fuck-Sam-we’re-screwed kind of grunt so Sam chalked it up as a win.

He still took the car to school.

That was why he was surprised when, one Friday, he came out of swim practice to find Castiel leaning against the car. Castiel was in an ill-fitting black suit with a blue tie loosely knotted around his neck. If the tie had been black, Sam would have thought Castiel was in town for a funeral. But he took his time admiring the length of Castiel’s legs in the dress pants before trotting up to the car.

“Hey!” He could blame the breathlessness on the training. For sure. Totally convincing.

“Sam.” Castiel straightened up. “When I saw the car, I thought Dean must be…”

“He lets me take the car. While he’s working. Because he’s nearer. And because of the gay thing.” Sam’s words all tangled out of his mouth as he came closer to Castiel. Standing beside him, Sam realised what he’d been too drunk to see before. Castiel was now shorter than him, by a good few inches. Castiel seemed to realise it at the same time as Sam, looking up and smiling.

“I’m here for a job interview – an internship over Winter Break. Anyway. Thought I’d say hi.” Castiel gave a dorky little wave, eyes still fixed on Sam.

“Do you want to come over for dinner? No. You’ve probably got some family thing. Because your mom would want you to come round.” Sam blurted out the words. Most of the time he was pretty inured to mentions of moms. He’d never known his after all. But he missed his dad sometimes – like now. It’d be hours at home alone until Dean came home and, if Dean decided to head out with the other mechanics like he’d been doing every Friday, he wouldn’t have any company until tomorrow morning. Or even afternoon.

“That’d be nice.” Castiel ducked around to the passenger side of the car. Sam rubbed his suddenly damp palms on his jeans before he opened the car doors. This was either going to be brilliant or an utter disaster.

 

Castiel phoned his mom on the way but other than that, the drive had been pretty silent. The house was also silent as Sam opened the door. He wasn't even sure what they had in the kitchen for food. Maybe he should order in. He didn't even know what he could offer Castiel to drink. He felt young and underprepared and ridiculous. He'd been coping with just Dean and him for years and he should be able to do this. He half blamed Castiel for being so...him and stealing half his brain cells.

Castiel pretended not to notice, loosening his tie even further and shrugging off his suit coat. He looked good in a white shirt, shoulders broad and hips narrow. And the suit pants showed off his ass and Sam was going to hell.

"Soda?" he blurted out, heading into the tiny kitchen. He opened the fridge. "Or coffee? You could probably have some of Dean's beer."

"Coffee. Would be good." Castiel was leaning in the doorway, looking as awkward as Sam felt. But the rituals of making coffee settled him. This place had come furnished and the coffee pot was old and slow, but it gave Sam time to centre himself again.

"You never told me what your internship was for?" Sam said, pleased at maintaining his even tone.

"DA’s office. Maybe. There were a lot of applicants." Castiel shrugged as he took the mug Sam offered and moved back to sit on the battered sofa.

"But you got to interview. I'm sure you did great." Sam smiled across at him. "Natasha got me a life-guarding job on the weekend. At the pool."

"That will look good on your college applications." Castiel led Sam into a discussion of SATs and grades and personal statements that took them into a discussion of college sports and then Dean's key was scraping in the door before Sam even knew what time it was.

"Sam. Cas." Dean nodded at each of them in turn before raising his eyebrows at Sam.

"Castiel was interviewing for an internship," Sam explained, excusing his presence. "We ordering in or cooking?"

"I was thinking pizza?" Dean said after a little bit too long of a pause. He was still looking between Sam and Castiel like he wanted to say something. Sam pushed up off the sofa and collected the empty coffee mugs, glad to hear Dean asking Castiel about his interview behind him. It was probably too much to hope that the awkward would go away but at least Dean was being civil.

Pizza was great, as it was pizza, and then Castiel stood, awkwardly, to make his goodbyes. Sam remembered that he'd driven Castiel here from the school. "Do you want me to drive you?"

"I can catch a bus," Castiel said. That was ridiculous. The buses around here weren't exactly known for their reliability or their cleanliness. Particularly not late-ish on a Friday night. Dean was into his fourth beer so Sam just grabbed the keys and ushered Castiel down the stairs. A shout of "bring back chips!" made Sam check he had his wallet.

The car was quiet so Sam decided he needed to make conversation. The ease of earlier had gone again and there was an odd tension between them. The air was thick with electricity. Sam pulled up outside Castiel's family home, which had lights on inside, warm and welcoming.

Castiel didn't make a move to leave. Just sat there, hands in his lap, looking down at the footwell.

"Hey," Sam said. "So. When do you go back to college?"

Castiel huffed out something that could have been a laugh. "I think sooner would be better." He looked up at Sam and smiled. It was a sad smile, bitter, with a twist to his mouth that looked utterly unlike Castiel.

"I thought you liked it?" Sam didn't know what was going on. But he was sure Castiel was hurting, somehow. He tentatively reached out a hand and laid it on Castiel's shoulder. He was expecting Castiel to knock it aside, leave. Instead Castiel leaned into the touch.

"I do. I have things I like here too." Castiel looked up at Sam, eyes wide and honest. "But you're seventeen and I won't break Dean's trust like..."

Sam didn't let Castiel finish. He leaned across the gap between them and laid his mouth over Castiel's. It wasn't much of a kiss - more a mash of lips and too many teeth. But it was definitely not an accident. Sam edged back, wary and worried that he'd gone too far. Castiel's hand snaked up to grab at his shirt.

"Let me... have this." Castiel pulled Sam back in, gently. Then he kissed Sam, soft, warm, gentle, wonderful. It was ridiculously romantic, nearly, with the soft glow of the streetlights and the brush of late evening stubble. Sam leaned into it, eager for everything, right there. But Castiel kept it soft, lips moving against each other, breathing in each other's air, each other's scent.

Sam knew he'd never forget this.

All too soon, Castiel disengaged himself, gently righting Sam and reaching for the car door. "I'll see you again, Sam."

"My birthday's not until May." The words spilled out, hard and worried.

Castiel nodded. Then he slid out of the car. "I can still see you, Sam. We can still be friends." There was a promise that underlay all that. Something wicked and tempting and the opposite of the soft and gentle kissing that had gone on.

Sam watched Castiel walk up to his front door and go inside. Castiel turned and waved just before he shut the door, a half smile on his face. Sam played the kiss over and over in his head as he stopped by the gas station for Dean's chips and in his bed and sitting on top of his lifeguard steps and every waking moment in between.

Natasha knew something was going on but she was smart enough to not press for details. In that, she waited until she had Sam alone and trapped in a booth at their favourite cafe before she demanded to know.

“Who is he?” Her face was stern. And disturbingly excited.

“Just a guy,” Sam shrugged.

“Is he hot? Please tell me he’s hot.” She looked positively gleeful.

Sam wondered how much he should say. “Yeah. It was just a kiss. Nothing more. But yeah.”

She squealed, making him fear for his eardrums, before settling down with a ‘give me details’ gleam in her eye. “Is he at our school?”

Sam shook his head and grabbed his homework. That was what they were supposed to be working on. Nothing else. They certainly weren’t going to discuss what had happened for all that Sam was desperate to. It would make it seem more real to tell another person. On the other hand, because Sam was keeping it all to himself, it was more special. It was also pretty impossible to put into words.

Natasha seemed to get that Sam wasn’t going to spill the beans – not yet anyway – and dragged out her own textbook. “I hope he’s good enough for you.”

“He is.” Sam knew that. Castiel was…perfect.

 

The email wasn’t from an address he recognised and Sam was about to delete it as spam when he thought about the name again. SwimmingAngel seemed to spark off some memories. He cautiously clicked, hoping it wasn’t porn or a virus. When he read the message, he smiled.

_Hello Sam,_

_I hope you do not mind me emailing you. I would like to stay in contact._

_Castiel_

The one line, oddly formal like most of the things Castiel did, made him grin. He liked the idea although he had no idea what to say. So when he hits reply, he ends up just spilling all the thoughts about swim team and school and college and it’s a whole lot more than he meant to say. Sam hesitates over sending it, worried that he’s sounding too much like a high school kid and maybe he should be playing it cool. But Castiel knows him and knows Sam is possibly the opposite of cool so it’ll be honest if nothing else. He hits send before he regrets it even more.

It seems like Castiel likes it and that begins their email correspondence, which is sometimes nothing more than a forwarded link or image but sometimes a full on rant. Sam felt like he’s getting to know Castiel a little better. It’s easier without him being face to face, most of the time. Sam doesn’t get tongue-tied after all. It’s harder too. He can’t ask Castiel to kiss him again.

 

Dad showed up just before Winter Break started, in a new and massive truck. It wasn’t brand new but new to Sam. Sam moved onto the sofa without asking – Dean still had to work and he needed his bed. They were both too tall to share a bed like they’d done in their childhood.

Sam managed two days before he broke. "When are we going?"

"We're not," his dad said, surprised. "Dean's got work and you've got assignments." He scratched the back of his neck, one of the (many) habits Dean had picked up from him. "I said you'd be here through Senior Year."

Sam wanted to yell back about years of broken promises and the difference between what his dad said and what he did. Years of tamped down bitterness seemed determined to spill forth but he buttoned down his anger, taking a moment to breathe, before he opened his mouth again. "What about next year?"

"Next year?" His dad leaned back on the chair, which squeaked kinda alarmingly. He didn’t look angry. If anything, he looked confused.

"Next year. After I graduate. I have to do something. I've already got most of my applications ready." Sam had spent a lot of time with the guidance counselor. He'd been half a year behind most of his classmates in getting started on the whole college process after all.

"I thought you were going to work, like Dean." His dad stood up and took his mug through to the kitchen, turning his back so Sam couldn't see his face.

Sam went to his room. He shouldn't react blindly, angrily. He pulled out the folder of essays and scholarship forms and offers and took it through to the living room. His dad was on the sofa now, with a beer and the remote. Sam dumped the folder in his lap.

"I'm going out. I'm taking Dean's car. Have a read." Then he grabbed his coat and the keys and slammed the door behind him before he could say anything else.

He hadn't really thought it through. He'd spoken to people at school, to Dean, to Castiel but he'd never spoken to his dad. His dad. There were kids at his school whose parents were freaking out about college and where their kid was going and had been saving since birth and here was his dad, not even considering it for Sam. He'd always been proud of Sam's report cards when he'd been a kid, taking Sam out for ice cream as a reward. That had dropped off as he'd left Dean to look after Sam more and more. He wondered, bitterly, for a moment, what his life would have been like if his mom had survived, hadn’t died in that fire when Sam was a baby.

Sam pulled the car over, not even paying attention to where he was, and dashed angry tears from his eyes. He'd blamed himself, blamed Dean, blamed his dad's job. He hadn't blamed his dad, not until now. It was a weird realisation. One of those bizarre psychological ones, the signs of adulthood, coming to terms with your parent being fallible. Sam hit the steering wheel.

He nearly hit the roof of the car when the passenger door opened. He looked around. For some reason he was parked just outside Castiel’s house. Castiel’s house where his mom and dad and brother and sister and he lived some kind of perfect life that was nothing like anything Sam had ever experienced. Castiel stuck his head inside, took one look at Sam and stood up and waved at someone outside. Then he got in.

"Drive." Sam started the car up again, and checked the mirrors, pulling away from the kerb carefully. He wasn't even that sure he knew where he was. Castiel seemed to get it, telling Sam to turn left and right and go straight on. They ended up at the school, opposite the entrance to the pool. It seemed fitting.

Castiel still didn't ask anything. Instead he fumbled in his pocket for his keys and flicked through them until he held up a familiar looking one. "Do you think they changed the locks?"

Sam shook his head, following Castiel out of the car and locking it behind them. Castiel let out a totally uncharacteristic gleeful shout when his key worked, letting them both in. The building was dark, ominous almost, but inside it was warm. The pool remained open for swimming clubs and Sam's training during the break and it obviously wasn't worth the risk of the pipes freezing.

"You got trunks?" Castiel asked, already shucking his coat.

Sam looked at the almost dark pool, watching the soft ripples reflect the hazy light from the skylights. Castiel was waiting for his answer. He could leave now, step back into the car, go back to Dean and his dad and just float along like they did, no plan, no end game... "In my locker. C'mon."

Sam led Castiel through to the changing rooms, tugging his keys out and finding his locker. They changed in silence, not looking at each other directly but Sam knew his eyes slid sideways more than was proper and he could feel Castiel's on him. He wondered what Castiel was thinking although the strange thrumming he felt in the pit of his stomach suggested that there might be something more than a midnight swim on the cards.

Castiel was in the water first, splashing around rather than swimming. There was a haze in the air above the pool, steam off the water. Sam dived in - the air beside the pool was chilly when he was only in his shorts. He's left the speedo at the back of his locker. Something told him he wanted his shorts to hide a little more than his speedo would. And it wasn't like he needed to be particularly streamlined. Castiel was lazily breast stroking across the pool, taking advantage of the lack of lanes.

Sam floated on his back. He didn't get the chance to do this much. It was nice, looking at the ceiling tiles, not thinking about much. That's when he was hit in the face by a noodle. Castiel grinned at Sam's outraged squawk before they settled side by side, occasionally brushing hands and legs together. "You want to talk about it, Sam?"

Sam rolled his head over to look at Castiel. He looked younger here, more Sam's age. He was as leanly muscled as ever, a little broader across the shoulders and arms but with the same pale skin. Sam felt that burn in his stomach again, a little lower now. "Not really."

Castiel hummed a little, his eyes sweeping up Sam's body. It was a pretty frank appraisal and Sam could feel his cheeks heating up. He'd only ever got that from the swim team groupies where it made him want to run and hide. This made him feel a little less uncomfortable.

"I want to try something else." Sam ducked out of his noodle and swam over to pull Castiel out of his. Then they were floating face to face, closer than they'd been since the night Castiel had kissed him in the car. The pool seemed quieter now since Sam had gotten used to the slap of the water against the side. It took him some time to reach out, left hand first, and find Castiel's waist under the surface.

"I used to think about this, Sam," Castiel said, face nakedly honest. "You were so young and innocent and I used to think about this."

"I'm not that kid anymore, Castiel. Cas." Sam tried to sound less tremulous too, perhaps trying to persuade himself as much as Castiel.

"Your brother is the only other person who calls me Cas." Then Castiel was reaching his hand out, skimming over Sam's shoulder before gently wrapping his hand around the back of Sam's neck, drawing him closer. "I like it."

Then their mouths met, wet and chlorine and salt and Sam didn't care. He'd played his kiss with Castiel over in his head again and again. It didn't match up to this. Castiel was pressed along him, so much naked skin together. It made Sam want to roll his hips, feel even more, as he opened his mouth and welcomed Castiel's tongue in. He tasted back, one arm out to keep them afloat as Castiel kissed him thoroughly, his hand tangling up into Sam's loose hair. Sam couldn't stop thinking again and again that this was what he wanted, this was what he'd dreamed of and the reality was so much better than his imagination.

Castiel was moving them in the water and Sam pulled back to ask what he was doing. Castiel’s eyes were dark, intent, and suddenly all the air punched out of Sam’s lungs. Castiel hadn’t been kidding when he’d said he’d been thinking about this. He wanted Sam and all Sam had to offer. “What do you want to do?”

Castiel brought his thumb around to stroke along Sam’s jaw, lingered at the corner of his mouth. He was breathing roughly too, his impeccable control starting to slip. He was steering Sam backwards until Sam’s back hit the side of the pool and he could put his feet down on the bottom of the pool. Castiel’s arms came up to hang onto the edge, holding Sam close between them. Then Castiel’s mouth was back on his, soft and possessive all at once. Now he had his balance, Sam let his hands roam, skimming down Cas’ shoulders, his back, his arms, hesitating just shy of his waistband. It shocked Sam when Castiel rolled his hips forward and Sam realised they were both hard as nails. He could feel it even through the water and the material holding them apart. His hands, tentative and cautious, slid down over Castiel’s ass, his fingers tangling in the material.

It was as if nothing else mattered except the feel of Castiel in his arms. Time vanished as they rubbed against each other. It was urgent, sure, but at the same time it felt like Sam could do this forever.

Castiel broke the kiss, eventually. “We need to get out.”

“Huh?” Sam wasn’t that articulate, fixated on the way Castiel’s lips were red and slick and he wondered if his own looked the same. He was leaning in for another kiss when Cas pulled away and levered himself out of the water. Sam turned and followed, shivering in the cooler air out of the water. Castiel was kneeling at the side of the pool, chest heaving like he’d run a race and Sam crawled over, desperate to feel his mouth again.

Castiel seemed over whatever had driven him to get out of the water, kissing back eagerly before rearranging himself, lying back on the tiles. Sam followed him down, realising that he was covering Castiel and they were touching all over with only two very wet, very clingy pieces of material in the way. Castiel’s hand had paused at the small of Sam’s back, his fingertips trailing down towards Sam’s waistband. “Can I…?”

“Yes,” Sam gasped before diving back. He thought he was addicted to the feel, the taste, the everything of Castiel’s mouth. He never wanted to stop kissing, not even when Castiel’s hands slid inside his trunks, cupped his ass. It was literally the best thing he’d ever felt. He could feel Castiel groaning as he rolled against Sam again. An idea, not a good idea or a particularly well-planned idea, planted itself in Sam’s head. He raised up, a little, and worked his hand between them, aiming for Castiel’s cock. He’d barely brushed his hand across the front when Cas started scrabbling, pushing Sam back further, making more space between them. Sam worried for a moment but then Castiel’s hands were slipping his shorts down over his hips and bringing out his cock and Sam had to think of how sore his knees were on the tiles to stop himself from coming just at the touch of Castiel’s hand. He had enough presence of mind to get his hand on Castiel’s waistband, tug it down with help from Cas, and then they were both just breathing into each other’s mouth, hands moving on the other’s cock.

It was a little awkward, his wrist at the wrong angle, but Castiel didn’t seem to mind, fucking his hips up into Sam’s hand, stripping Sam with a single minded focus that Sam couldn’t fault. “Gonna come, Cas. Gonna-“ Sam gave in to the pulse in his veins, the white light pushing at his eyes and spilled over Cas’ hand and his belly. He felt another throb in his balls as he felt Castiel come too, cock impossibly hard under the velvet soft skin. He stroked Cas through it as well as he could before pulling off, rolling to the side and lying on his back.

The tiles were still cold. He’d broken into the pool where he’d have to be at 6am tomorrow for training. And he’d just had someone else touch his dick for the first time. And not just anyone. Sam let his breathing return to normal before he looked over at Castiel. Cas had his (clean) hand over his face.

“I didn’t mean to do that, Sam.” His voice was rough and low. Sam tried to work out why Cas sounded like he regretted it, but his brain still wasn’t functioning on all cylinders. He leaned over and pushed Cas’s hand out of the way to kiss Cas again, soft and gentle, chaste. Just lips.

“I liked it. We should do it more.” Sam tried to sound nonchalant but knew he probably sounded desperate and eager.

Castiel frowned and pulled his borrowed swim shorts up. “Not until you’re eighteen.” He sounded leaden. Then he was on his feet and heading for the showers. Sam lay there, wondering what to think. His mind was whirling. Then the implication of what Castiel had said sunk in. Cas wanted him, had wanted him for a long time.

“You gonna be my boyfriend then?” he yelled, a little devilishly. His blood was still bubbling, effervescent in his body. He felt like he was floating above the ground as he followed Cas into the showers, dropping the wet shorts on the floor outside. Cas was rubbing at his skin, quick, efficient movements. He looked at Sam, eyes hooded and intent.

“Could be. If you want.”

Suddenly Sam realised that he wasn’t the only one unsure of what they were doing, what was happening. It made him feel better, gave him back that giddy, high feeling. Who would drink or smoke weed when all it took for him to feel like this was the promise of more to come? The promise Castiel was making.

“I want.” And Sam leaned in, kissed him quickly, then ducked under his own shower and scrubbed. He should get home, speak to his dad some more. “Thanks.”

 

Dean was alone in the apartment when Sam pushed open the door, gingerly if he was being honest. But Dean was the only one there, feet up on the coffee table, TV on some mindless crime drama. Sam waved as he headed to his room. He’d been so caught up with thinking about what his dad might want that the fact Dad was gone seemed to suck all his energy. Late night swims and…well, whatever he and Cas had done were also exhausting. His pile of college applications was on the bed. So delay, avoidance, rather than complete denial.

That exhausted Sam even more.

 

Castiel was in town for a couple of months for his internship with the DA. He seemed to mainly to be filing and during the week Sam was in school and didn’t see much of him. They emailed but it was more awkward that before. There were things Sam knew he couldn’t say – things he wondered if Cas wanted to hear about what Sam wanted to do with him. He wanted, above all, to ask what they were to each other? There was the boyfriend word which made him feel kinda strange all over. There was also the nothing word.

It turned out that Castiel was free on the weekend. Sam still had homework and practice and all the things that filled up his life but he turned down Natasha’s invite to hang at her house and closed his eyes and emailed Cas. He very carefully didn’t use the word “date” but that was what he was asking. Him and Castiel going to see some indie film at the movies. Dean had plans and Sam didn’t feel entirely right inviting Castiel back to the apartment when they’d done what they’d done. Castiel might expect more, if Sam was to invite him back. He might also do nothing.

Movies. Out in public, could be explained as friends, going to a movie that Dean wouldn’t see in a million years. It wasn’t pressuring Castiel, but it wasn’t saying ‘hey, you got me off and that’s all I want to do with you’ either. A perfect compromise.

Castiel said no, saying he had something with his parents. Last minute. Sam wondered about going out but decided that getting ahead on his reading was a valuable use of his time. The next couple of weekends were the same. Sam would suggest something and Castiel would turn it down, always with an excuse. He wasn’t distant but the ease they’d achieved was gone. Sam didn’t know whether to bother any more or not.

 

Winter break was a welcome break away from school. Sam had ended up with quizzes all the last week at school, studying in any free time. He wished teachers co-ordinated better. There was no need for him to trip out of one class, wrist aching from writing and head throbbing with concentration only to fall into another exam, writing even more. He ate, he slept and he studied. And Dean let him.

Sleeping in during break was luxury. Which was why Sam answered the door in a ratty pair of pyjama pants and nothing else. He was trying to smooth his hair into some kind of order when he opened the door to reveal Castiel. Cas stared. There was no other word for it. He stood there and just stared at Sam.

“Come in?” Sam hadn’t meant to make it a question but that’s what it became.

“No Dean?” Castiel was still hovering in the doorway.

Sam hid himself behind the door, suddenly remembering the way he’d hidden himself way back during that first meeting, when Dean and Cas were studying. He grinned. He’d come a long way from that kid. He was able to stand on his own two feet now.

“Come in and let me put on some clothes.” Sam waited until Castiel muttered something under his breath before stepping over the threshold, then closed the door and breathed against it for a moment. Castiel didn’t sit down when Sam waved vaguely in the general direction of the sofa. Instead he came close, hand hanging in mid-air. Sam screwed up his courage and stepped forward, “So, hey.”

They were close, so close Sam could see the tiny shivers that betrayed Castiel’s nervousness. “Cas?”

“Hello, Sam.” Castiel’s voice was serious and contained the usual hints of gravel. And if it wasn’t for the fact Sam could see him shaking and see the wideness of his eyes, the way he seemed lost for words, Sam would have presumed him indifferent. Sam shivered, suddenly cold, then closed the distance between them, bending down just a little to give Castiel a wet open mouthed kiss. Cas’ hands came up to hold his biceps, hold him in place as they slid towards each other. Sam walked them backwards towards the sofa, laughing when Cas tumbled backwards. It didn’t stop him crawling into his lap.

Whilst Castiel’s hands were skimming down his back, they hadn’t progressed any further, either with nudity or talking, when Sam heard a key in the door. He just had time to rear back when Dean pushed the door open. Any interest his dick might have been showing in the whole wriggling and rubbing thing thankfully faded straight away.

“Sam. Cas.” Dean sounded caught between shock and something approaching fury as Sam scrambled backwards.

“I didn’t think you’d be home.” The words were out before Sam could censor them. He realised that was probably not going to calm Dean down. “We weren’t doing anything.”

Castiel stood up, looking uncomfortable. “I should go.”

“You sit right there.” Dean pointed and Castiel sat back down rather suddenly. Dean grabbed Sam’s arm and towed him towards his room. Sam grabbed clothes, feeling naked again. He shoved on a t-shirt while Dean seemed to stoke the fires of his wrath by pacing to and fro.

“What?” Sam kicked off his pyjama pants and dragged on boxers and jeans. “I didn’t ask him round because you were out.”

“I thought we’d decided, Sam. I thought there was no dating Cas.” Dean had his fists clenched, as if he wanted to hit something. Sam really hoped it wasn’t going to be him or Castiel.

“We’re not dating-“ Sam started, but was immediately interrupted by Dean’s shout of “that’s not what it looked like.” Sam finished dressing in awkward silence and then sat on the edge of his bed. There wasn’t much room in his tiny bedroom – just enough for the bed and an old battered wardrobe. Dean ended up sliding to the floor beside the door. They sat in silence for so long that Sam had to wonder if Cas would still be there when they went out. If Dean ever let him out of the room ever again.

“Sam – he’s too old. He’s my age.” Dean looked serious now, back into concerned brother mode rather than avenging fury.

“He’s not- I wasn’t lying to you.” Sam had the urge to tear his hair out by the roots. Everything he was saying was coming out wrong. He had to make Dean understand. “We’re not, Dean. He won’t- Not until I’m eighteen.”

“You’ve discussed it. I thought-“ Dean’s fists were curling on his thighs.

“I’m not a kid, Dean.” Sam let out an awkward snort. “Though I guess saying that makes me seem like one. “ Dean shook his head. “I’m the one chasing him. He’s a good guy.”

Dean was silent for a long moment but Sam resisted the urge to say more. “I know. I know. He was great when you were at school first time around. With the swim team and everything.”

“I did that on my own, Dean. It wasn’t Cas.” A sudden nasty paranoia started. “You didn’t…?”

“I asked him to recommend you, to say you’d do it. I never expected you to win anything. Just thought it’d help you fit in.” Dean had the grace to look embarrassed at least.

Sam pushed up off the bed. “I’m gonna get some coffee and offer Cas some. You want?”

Dean nodded, eyeing Sam with something akin to a new respect. Perhaps he was even getting the idea that Sam wasn’t like him, didn’t want the same things as him. That Sam wanted to live his own life. Sam nodded back at him and headed out. He had a lot to sort through.

 

In the end, it was Natasha who talked him down. Sam had gone through the rest of Castiel’s short visit to their apartment in a sort of haze, happy to let Dean be vaguely threatening and Castiel be kinda defensive while he tried to work out everything in his head. Natasha seemed, with some kind of feminine intuition, to know that something had changed.

“You remember the team? Back when we were freshmen?” Sam finally gave in to her incessant prodding. “Did I really make it?”

Natasha regarded him with a cool assessing glare that was much older than her years might suggest. “You think you got the spot on the team with your body? That Castiel…”

“Dean said-“ Sam started. Then he shrugged.

“They posted the times, dumbass. I’m friends with a moron.” Natasha leaned across the diner booth and slapped Sam lightly on the head. “Now get your brain in gear and help me plan the training schedule for January.”

It still rankled. Sam had been used to being self-sufficient and standing on his own feet and, yeah, he knew he had Dean backing him up but he hadn’t needed more than that knowledge for quite some time. He could defend himself, although his height seemed to put off most of the people who might threaten him. He could earn money. He could drive.

He didn’t need his big brother to choose his boyfriends for him.

Castiel stopped answering emails anyway.

 

The rest of the school year seemed determined to fly past. Sam trained, swam, had a couple of weekend meets away from home. He studied. He waited to hear back from colleges. He did everything someone his age should do. Except date.

It wasn’t like he had a lot of options. Dean was keeping an eye on him more closely and insisting on brother bonding time. He even sat through a couple of French films with Sam to make a point of some kind. He only fell asleep once. Natasha insisted that Sam come with her to parties as a kind of ‘save me from creeps’ date. And it wasn’t like his choice of eligible young men was particularly huge. He tried to put Castiel out of his mind but it was difficult. His crush seemed even worse now that they’d made out, been progressing beyond that. Sam was a regular guy when it came to sex after all.

His birthday came and went. Dean bought a cake and they went for burgers. A card arrived two days later from their dad. In the same post was a scholarship offer – full ride – for pre-law at Stanford. And Sam ended up typing all this into an email to Cas and sending it and forgetting all about it.

 

The final meet of the season was at their school and Sam was towed along by Natasha to help out with welcoming the other teams. His race wasn’t until near the end so he got to hang out in his sweats and keep the others calm too. It had a real feel of an end of an era, even though Sam had only really been part of the team since the beginning of the year. The bleachers were full of family and supporters – success meant people were willing to come and wave flags and cheer – and Sam wondered if this was the moment he’d remember from high school. He could still see the place where he and Cas had made out but he tried to forget that and focus on the noise, the cheers, the way the juniors were going all out to impress. They would be seniors and in his place before too long. Sam laughed at himself for being all nostalgic.

Finally his race was called and he stripped off and waited, glancing over the crowd. Dean had said he would try to come but there was no sign of his brother’s cropped hair or leather jacket anywhere. Instead Castiel was there, wearing a washed out and battered school t-shirt. He smiled at Sam and waved, tentatively. Sam looked at his feet.

He hadn’t heard back from Cas – no phone calls, no emails. No surprise visits to their apartment. He’d presumed Cas had headed back to school. But here he was, cheering Sam on like he was his boyfriend or something. The thought warmed Sam and he couldn’t hide the grin on his face when he looked up and met Castiel’s eyes.

He threw everything into his race, this final race of his whole high school swim team career. It was just swim as hard as he could, focus on breathing, on technique. On thinking his body longer. He sliced through the water, barely feeling the splash, the drag, the buffets from the wakes of the other swimmers. Roll turn and he was powering through his final length. He became aware of a noise, near the end, a roar that seemed to fill the space as his hand slapped the wall at the far end and he bobbed up in the water to grab the side of the pool in a definite end. He looked left and right to see everyone else hit the wall beside him before looking up at the adjudicator – some parent from another school who showed him her stopwatch. She was saying something but Sam couldn’t hear her over the roar of the crowd. But the numbers were low. He heaved himself out of the pool and was shocked when Natasha grabbed him in a hug.

“Trophy, Sam. Trophy and record!” She was delighted, bouncing beside him. Then she let out a deafening squeal, making his ears ring. Sam headed for his towel, accepting the pats on the back and the congrats as the noise of the crowd rolled over him, chanting “Sam! Sam! Sam!” He gave a self-conscious wave, embarrassed by the wall of sound. He sat on the bench, towel around him, and pulled off his cap and goggles, running his hand through his hair.

“Well done.” Castiel had made his way through the crowd and was standing behind Sam now, right at the barrier separating the spectators from the competitors. Sam forgot his confusion, his anger, his paranoia and smiled at Cas. He looked good, even in an old worn out shirt and jeans. His tangled hair and stubble suggested he wasn’t as put together as he appeared, however, an impression confirmed by the rather careful smile on his face.

“Thanks.” Sam waved, a little cautious. “I’m going to get changed.”

“Can we go somewhere? For lunch?” Castiel swallowed. “To talk?”

Sam nodded before he stood up with the rest of the team. He clutched his towel around him as they listened to the principal give a speech before cheering along with everyone else. They had a party planned later – well, Natasha had – and it was bound to be a good one as she collected a trophy that was very shiny and as long as one of Sam’s arms. There were medals to be handed out and Sam ducked his head to receive his, feeling it bounce cold against his chest. There were also some photographs to be taken before he could head for the showers. All the way through the ceremonies, his mind was stuck on a loop of Castiel, Castiel, Castiel.

Like so many times since coming back to the town, Sam was struck by déjà vu when he came out of the pool to find Castiel leaning against the Impala. This time, however, Sam had nothing to lose. He dropped his bag by Cas’ feet and leaned in, almost pinning him against the car. Then he kissed him, out in the open. There were people streaming past them, chatting and laughing, but Sam was caught up in the warmth, the way Castiel gave under him just a little, letting Sam come close, place a hand at his waist. There was a promise in the kiss, something wonderful to come perhaps, but right now all that mattered was the fact Sam was happy.

Sam was eighteen. He had college and then the whole world in front of him. And right now, he had Castiel and a long summer and nothing to say except yes.


End file.
